


A Bit of Mothering

by Aris_Silverfin, sherlockstummy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Feeding, Feeding Kink, First Kiss, Food Issues, Getting Together, Hungry Sherlock, Molly helps Sherlock out, belly appreciation, feeding up, hunger kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 03:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1842232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aris_Silverfin/pseuds/Aris_Silverfin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockstummy/pseuds/sherlockstummy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt by sherlockstummy: Pre-HLV, Molly notices Sherlock getting thinner than ever without John to look after him, and she starts to get worried. Cue Molly awkwardly asking Sherlock to dinner. And then they both find out they like him eating. The world's only consulting detective needs someone to look after him after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Baby Steps

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a prompt my good friend sent me on tumblr. Then we ended up collaborating together instead.  
> Aris wrote Molly's bits, and Sherlockstummy wrote Sherlock. Hope you enjoy!

Things would undoubtedly be different now, what with John and Mary being married. And of course the baby. That would make John think twice about putting himself in danger by chasing after some criminal with Sherlock. He hadn't seemed quite right after the wedding, Sherlock. He seemed moodier, quieter. After he'd got back from the Fall, he'd been so animated, eager and excited. But now... now he was looking sad again. Molly knew that look well. It was like missing someone, or a really severe case of nostalgia that just seemed to burrow deeper than it should. It was almost like the detective was in mourning.  
He was spending a lot of time at Bart's lately. And it was nice to see him, it really was, but Molly couldn't help but feel worried. In all the time he sits there, researching or whatever... sometimes for the whole day, he doesn't seem to have eaten a thing. His shirts had been filled out a lot better before the wedding, she was sure of it. She, er, couldn't help but notice that sort of thing...

He was looking peaky again, slight, his cheekbones angular and shocking like they had been... before John. That's when it dawned on her. Sherlock had been relying on John to feed him up, nag him about meals. Without the doctor, Sherlock neglected his transport. He needed someone to look after him. The thought was oddly endearing. And a bit heart breaking.

Therefore, one day, Molly saw her chance. She had dressed in a skirt Sherlock had once complimented. Or well, sort of complimented. It wasn't always easy to tell if it was genuine. She'd done her lipstick too. Not that this was anything like that, she just... wanted to be sure he was okay.

"Er, Sherlock?" she said, walking up beside where he was frowning at a microscope sample.

 

Sherlock had been working on this latest case tirelessly for over two days. The Work was his primary focus. It kept him from thinking about John.  
He had noticed Molly sneaking up closer to where he was seated, and wondered if she might be persuaded to make him coffee, he looked up. "Yes, Molly?" He tried very hard to say it in a neutral tone, but he felt it come out harsher than necessary. Damn. Well, maybe she'd overlook it.

 

"Er, I was wondering, if-" She stopped there a moment. Now that she thought about it, there were a lot of ways that sentence could end. She didn't want to seem too forward, but she cared so - "If, you needed anything?" That wasn't exactly what she'd meant to ask. But maybe she could build up to it. Yeah. That would work.

 

Sherlock peered curiously at her. A nice, flattering skirt that looked good on her body type, a bit of makeup, lipstick...was she trying to ask him out? "Coffee would be lovely, thanks." He went to go back to his work. "I'm on a case that is highly time sensitive, so if you don't mind."

 

"Oh, er. Of course. Yeah," said Molly, wilting a little before getting a grip on herself. He was just lonely. And he likely hadn't eaten all day. That always made people grumpy. She went and made him a coffee, just how she knew he liked it. She also managed to find a half eaten packet of biscuits that hadn't gone stale. It was a bit of a pitiable offering. But she figured a little sweet might appeal to him. Molly brought the coffee mug and the biscuits back beside Sherlock.

"Here, anything else I can do?" she asked, looking him over again. She worried her lip with her teeth.

 

Crisps? Sherlock sniffed. No, biscuits...chocolate by the smell of them. He wet his lips briefly. God, when had he eaten last...? No! No, he was on a case, damn it! He sat back and lifted the coffee with both hands, faintly aware that his hands were trembling. He snuck a glance at his watch.

"Thank you, Molly," he said kindly, sipping his coffee. "You should go home now. It's quite late." That, and he knew that serial killers and rapists would haunt this part of London at this hour .Yes. That's why he was concerned, he told himself.

 

"I've got time," Molly said, still looking at him even if he refused to look at her, "Sherlock... when's the last time you ate? Like, properly? Sat down and had a- a meal?"

Sherlock swallowed, feeling the coffee turn cold and hard in his stomach. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd actually had... But he couldn't admit that to her. Then, she'd be worried and never leave. And he'd have to offer to leave with her, for her own protection. Otherwise, he'd be worried.

"Last week," he lied easily. "After I finished the Butler case." He almost said "You can read about it in John's blog," but John hadn't joined him for that adventure. It made him sad to think about it, so he didn't.

"Last week?" echoed Molly, feeling simultaneously horrified and sure she had misheard. "Sherlock, you can't just-God you must be starving! Here, please. Have a biscuit. They're-they're really nice." She plucked one from the packet and held it out so that he could see it. It was not to feed him of course. That wouldn't be her place. He was a grown man. But he looked so thin... She was worried.

 

Sherlock tilted his head slightly in confusion. Well, if she was that concerned about him going hungry for a week, then he had been wise to lie. He stared at the offered biscuit skeptically. "I'm not, really," he protested, trying to sound confident. But...the biscuit did look good...and he was so hungry...

Suddenly, his stomach rumbled, and he turned away. "Sorry...I'm not feeling well. You should go, uh...finish your work." He studiously went back to his microscope.

 

Molly pursed her lips.

"I already finished the paperwork on my last one for the night," she said stubbornly, "And Sherlock, I may not be a genius but I'm not stupid. I know how the human body works. And I know that one that hasn't had any food in a long time responds to stimuli by releasing digestive enzymes and liquids into the empty stomach, causing an increase in liquid and activation of peristalsis which makes those little growly noises. You're hungry." She flushed a bit pink, but nudged the biscuits closer to him. "Just, er, try one. I don't think a single biscuit is going to interrupt your thoughts." Though he should probably have more than just one little biscuit. Still. Baby steps.

 

Sherlock sat up straight and stared at her. Molly Hooper was not often a strong-willed woman, but he suspected that to disobey her when she put her mind to something was not wise. He sighed. "Fine. One biscuit. Then I really must get back to work." He lifted the biscuit to his lips. The biscuit looked appetizing. Sherlock was hungry, there was no denying that now. But there really was a time-sensitive case that needed his attention... he couldn't afford to feed himself right now. He took a bite and chewed, swallowing it down afterwards. His stomach rumbled, asking for more. But... He hesitated before eating the rest, knowing that he really didn't have enough fuel to finish this case and also knowing it was dangerous to eat right now. He would want to be full. And he couldn't. "It's a bit late for dinner, isn't it?" He ventured, smiling a little.

 

"Not too late," said Molly, smiling softly as Sherlock finally ate, "I, erm, I haven't had anything either. We could go together. For-for a butty or.. that fish and chips place you like." She took a long breath. It didn't have to mean anything. She knew he wasn't actually interested in her that way, but it might be... nice.

 

Sherlock wet his lips hungrily. That fish and chips sounded lovely...several servings, in fact. "Molly, that sounds wonderful." He hadn't felt this hungry in a long time, he realized. It was more like he felt when John reminded him that he had to eat every so often. Like someone actually cared about his well-being. He smiled genuinely at her. Hungry as he was, though, lives were at stake. "This would go much faster...if you could help me isolate this compound," he said shyly. "That should solve the case, and then, well..." He shrugged. "Fish and chips, you said?"

 

"Yeah, okay. Mystery first, then dinner," Molly agreed, beaming, and took a small sample from the substance he'd been working with and set up a microscope for herself. She put the sample on a slide, then bit her lip as he scrutinized it. "Well, it's something crystalline. Maybe a salt or some other sort of ionic thing. What are your suspicions?" she asked, looking back over at Sherlock "I can run an acidity test. That should narrow it down a bit more."  
The promise of a date-well a dinner afterwards was making her oddly giddy. Still. This was important and... she wanted to impress him. Prove to Sherlock that she could work with him. Not that she was replacing John! Just... he seemed the type that needed someone. And well, he'd come to her once before.

 

Sherlock smiled softly at Molly's enthusiasm. She was eager to please him. Little did she know...she didn't have to try as hard as she was. He was hesitant to call it love. Love seemed like gooey, Shakespearian protestations and long hours spent in bed with poetry. But maybe...maybe it was love after all. He couldn't help the way that his heart thumped when she came near. But no need to jump to conclusions.

"I suspect that the killer used sugar laced with rat poison to kill his victims. He got some sort of thrill from putting it in their coffee." He stretched lightly and looked at her. "Does that fit with your analysis so far, Miss Hooper?"

 

"Hm, it fits the granules, not the ionic crystals... but maybe the poison," Molly pursed her lips and looked down at the sample again. "Warfarin and metal phosphides might be worth checking for... Just a moment." She stood and dashed off to the other side of the lab, looking for the correct chemical reagent to identify the poisonous substances.

 

"I agree." Sherlock replied. "You analysis is sound as always." He stood carefully and filled a pipette with the right solution. "I am fairly certain this compound will contain warfarin. It's from the suspect's kitchen, after all. And I am rarely wrong." He straightened up smugly, though he winced afterwards. He really was starting to feel the weakness now.

 

Sherlock's sudden jerk caught Molly's eye.

"I'll get it and bring it over. You sit and have another biscuit, though be careful if there's rat poison about," she said strictly, then flushed slightly. She shouldn't nag him. Though he might need it now and again. Molly brought over a bit of the sample and took the pipette, then carefully added the substances together.  
"Hm, yep, that's the reaction," she said, nodding at the petri dish.

 

"I've been keeping the substances separate," Sherlock replied, "though I'm honestly a bit wary to eat now..." He chuckled, obediently returning to his chair. As Molly spoke, he nodded. "Ah, good. I will text Lestrade. Our murderer is...rather agoraphobic, I believe. So he will not be going anywhere." Sherlock sent the text and sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We both should wash up. And then fish and chips, yes?"

 

"Yes!" said Molly, surprising herself with a bit of a squeak. She blushed and cleared her throat. "Erm, yes, that would be good I think. Here, There's a chemical sink in the back, just to be safe." She lead the way back and started rinsing off her hands, then added the sweet smelling vanilla soap she always liked. It was odd to be so excited about a greasy portion of fish and chips, but well, it was with Sherlock. She dipped her head to hide a small grin from the man.

 

Sherlock followed Molly back to the sink he'd known was there, being careful so he didn't look so weak. His head swam slightly as he bent to also wash his hands. He sniffed appreciatively. "Mmm...vanilla..." Did he just say that out loud? He quickly finished washing up and cleared his throat. "Yes, well. My coat is, uh...back there."  
He turned to go retrieve it, but tripped over his own feet on the way. He caught himself on the table before he fell. 

 

"Oh, God! Are you okay? Yeah, I'll just," Molly stopped babbling and dashed off to find the man's coat. She knew where it was of course. It was lovely and heavy in her hands, still smelled of his cologne... Molly brought it out and held it up for him to slip into. "Here. Are you sure you're okay... you look a bit." She gazed up at him, all doe eyes and concern.

 

Sherlock slipped into his coat with her help and nodded, taking a breath as he slipped his scarf on. "Yes, I'm fine. Just quite a bit hungrier than I thought." He hesitated, then gently rested his hand on hers. "Come on. Let's go get your coat, and we can go."

 

"Oh-er yeah. I probably should have grabbed it. I guess we're both a bit out of sorts," she laughed, turning her hand to keep his. It was for stability obviously. In case he was about to pass out. But still, she loved how big and warm his hand felt. She got her coat and got everything locked and settled so they could go, then lead the way out to the street. 

"So, cab? I don't know if we should walk.. it's er, a bit chilly."

And she didn't think Sherlock should be walking much without something more than a chocolate hobnob in his stomach.

 

"Certainly. I'll pay." Sherlock lifted up a hand to hail a cab. As usual, one pulled up. Sherlock opened the door for Molly. "After you." It was rather chilly. He didn't want Molly to catch cold. Wait, where did all this care come from? He was so confused... But his stomach growled. There would be time to sort out his feelings later. After he ate.

 

"Thanks," said Molly brightly, sliding into the cab and scooching over to make room for Sherlock. She clasped her hands in her lap and sat back . It was a relief to know the detective would have a good meal in him. Maybe there was something she could do... to keep an eye on him a bit more. Makes sure he ate... Maybe she should talk to Mrs. Hudson or just pop by with biscuits now and again...

 

"I would like that." Sherlock said as he got in, grinning at her. "I got quite fond of your cooking during the time I had to play dead." He told the cabbie the address of his favorite chip shop and sat back, relaxing.

 

Molly felt a blush rise to her cheeks. "How'd you know I was thinking about... that?" she teased. She had almost said 'you' but figured Sherlock wouldn't appreciate the flirting. Not now. It was just a nice dinner between hungry friends. And one who really needed some feeding up.

 

"I deduced, obviously." Sherlock replied haughtily, but his eyes were soft and playful instead of cruel and hard. "It doesn't take much to read you."

 

"Oh, er... Was that supposed to be a compliment or?" said Molly, giving him a small tentative smile. She never could tell if he was trying to be nice or not.

 

Sherlock hummed thoughtfully. "Well...not usually. But I tend to enjoy people who are easy to read. It means I can easily focus on other deductions." He had to wonder at himself. What? What was he saying? He blushed. "Forgive me for being so forward. I am tired and my mind is weak."

 

"Oh, no, that's... that's fine. I'm glad, I guess," said Molly with a small smile. Somehow she was brave enough to reach over and pat the man's hand. Just as swiftly she wasn't and withdrew again. Thank God the cab stopped there.

"Ah, I think, that's the place isn't it?" she asked, squinting out the window.

 

Sherlock nodded. "Yes it is." He opened the cab and reached inside to help Molly out, dropping the fare off in the cabbie's hand as he did so. "Shall we, Miss Hooper? I'm famished."


	2. Chips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two oblivious lovebirds go out for fish and chips.

Molly eagerly stepped out of the cab, though most of that eagerness was just to see that man finally eat something. She lead the way up to the small shop, which looked about to close.

"Hello! Sorry, but could we have two orders of fish and chips please?" she asked the large but friendly woman inside. She smiled and nodded.

 

"O'course my dear," she said, then spotted Sherlock, "Ah, Mr. Holmes! Well if it's you and this lovely young lady, you can have everything on the house. As much as you like."

 

"Oh, er thank you!" Molly said.

 

"No problem, ma dears. I was just about to close up. Really anything here will just go to waste, so if you want more than two, I'd be happy to hand them over."

 

"I'd hate to keep you after hours, Hannah," Sherlock said courteously to the woman. "But could you make that four orders?" He stepped aside, offering to take Molly's coat. "And could we have some tea as well?"

 

"Certainly, no worries at all. I'll just collect my books and register." said the woman kindly. She presented them with four generously loaded baskets of fish and chips, still hot and crisp despite being the last of the day.

 

"Thank you," said Molly, taking two to carry over. She wasn't sure she'd be even finishing one, but if Sherlock was hungry, she would happily let him have all he wanted. She grabbed some ketchup, salt and pepper, and a bit of vinegar.

 

"Thank you, Hannah. You're a life saver." Sherlock took the other two over to the table and sat down. He subtly pulled the third one closer to himself, slyly dousing the rest in vinegar. "I hope you don't mind. I ordered a bit more than is polite." He smiled shyly. "The truth is...it may have been more than a week, since I ate properly last."

 

Molly's eyes widened. God, how long had it been then.

"Oh, don't worry. It's fine. That's completely fine. You eat up," she said, nodding at all the baskets before him, "Please. You need it." She smiled and picked up one of her own chips and popping it into her mouth. Hot potato burst through crisp skin. Oh, these were wonderful! Sherlock always knew the best places. It was odd he was so thin.

 

"It's because I often get distracted," Sherlock replied, grinning at Molly as he readily ate his chips. "Mmm...Hannah's chips are fantastic as always."

 

Molly felt herself blush slightly at that. "Erm, yes, yes they are," she supplied, beginning to eat happily now that Sherlock was doing the same. God, that was a welcome sight.

"You need someone to keep an eye on you then," she chuckled, before freezing and realizing her mistake, "Sorry." More chips.

 

"No," Sherlock replied softly, hesitating and then reaching across the table to rest his hand on hers. "I...I would welcome your care. Honestly." He smiled shyly at her before withdrawing his hand and beginning to eat at a quicker and less polite pace.

 

Molly jumped as he touched her, looking up with big wide eyes. "Oh,er, I didn't mean-but of course if you want me- I don't mind. I'd- I'd love to. I'll just."

She was blushing and babbling, not entirely sure what she was saying anymore. She cleared her throat. "All I mean is. Okay. I'll, I'll stop by now and again. Keep in touch with you. Bring you dinner... now and again." She smiled shyly. Yeah, that was good enough.

 

"Oh." Sherlock tried not to sound or seem disappointed. Of course. She had no reason to want him or love him after all he'd done to hurt her. One night was not going to change any of that. "Well, yes. Do come around any time you're free. I...I appreciate your company." He went back to eating his chips, finishing off the first basket and quickly going back for more.

 

"Thanks..." said Molly, looking down at her own basket. Hang on, that had been. That had actually been nice.

 

"I appreciate your company too," she said, smiling up at him again. 

 

"Oh, uh, well...I know I'm not always the best..." Sherlock shrugged, looking at his lap. His stomach rumbled, though, so he laughed and pulled the second basket closer. Hannah brought over their teas and left the table again.

 

"No-You're great. Really. Just honest. It's sort of a relief really," said Molly, smiling a bit more. She tried a piece of the fried fish. That was really terrific too. "I'm glad to see you're enjoying yourself."

 

Sherlock lifted a strip of fried fish to his lips. "Likewise. I couldn't have my pathologist swooning everywhere, now could I?" He chuckled warmly. "Even if I was the one swooning..."

 

"You-er you were worried about me?" she asked tentatively between munching on her fish. Molly felt a blush creep into her cheeks. Well, it was worth a try.

 

"Of course," Sherlock replied, looking up at her in surprise. "It's a bit hypocritical, I admit, but I cannot have anyone else acting like me." He smiled. "And I obviously worry about you, Molly Hooper." He couldn't make himself say the three words she only dreamed of from him, because he wasn't quite certain what to call it. But maybe she'd get the idea.

 

"Obviously," Molly repeated back, a bit of a tease entering her voice. She started on her second piece of fish. Sherlock was definitely outpacing her, but well. She wanted this to last. She tried not to stare too openly at the mans lips as they enfolded each bite.

"Well, in any case. I'm glad it lead to you getting a proper dinner," she said, then added in a playful scold, "You really shouldn't go so long without eating. Even if you are working. I can tell you all sorts of things that happen to the brain and body if they don't get the nutrients they need."

 

"But I will forget," Sherlock replied fondly. "You'll just have to remind me." He finished his second basket and moved on to his last. "I believe my flat is closer. And I cannot have you going home alone. Would you care for a nightcap at mine?"

 

"Oh, er. Sure. That would be lovely. Thanks," said Molly, looking up at that peculiar man once again. Well, if there was a chance, she'd grab it with both hands. Just the flat, not that she was thinking... no.

She finished her food and sat back to watch Sherlock eat. It was a bit of a wonder that he hadn't even slowed down yet. The portions hadn't been small. She was... oddly impressed. Glad to see an appetite on him.

 

"Good." Sherlock polish off his third portion and muffled a belch. He wasn't quite as full as he could be, he supposed, but it was a nice start. He sat back, running a hand down his stomach. It was softer now, sticking out slightly from all the starch. He stretched lightly. "Have you had enough to eat, Molly?"

 

Molly found herself following Sherlock's hand with her eyes. There did seem to be a bit more there now... that was good.

"Oh, yes. Thanks. So, back to yours?" It still didn't feel quite true.

 

Sherlock stood and gently took Molly's coat from her chair, offering it to her. "Back to mine. I could always escort you home, but, well...John doesn't live there, so I do happen to have a spare room. If you decide to stay the night, that is," he added hastily, blushing. He could hear Hannah tutting and rolled his eyes fondly.

 

"Sure, I'd love to, better than going home to an empty flat- er for me. When I was with Tom I had to get rid of my cat. He was allergic," said Molly, then went a bit pink herself. "Sorry, er, don't know why I said that. Thanks. Erm. Yeah."

She slipped into the coat Sherlock was holding out for her, and then turned, looking down to do up her buttons slightly. She couldn't help but catch sight of Sherlock's stomach as she did so. It did look full, poking out a bit. The sight was oddly endearing. She bet it would feel very warm...

 

Sherlock filed away that piece of information for later. He remembered that he was not allergic to cats. In fact, he liked cats. Well, that settled that. He finished helping Molly into her coat then slipped on his own. He noticed the buttons felt just a bit snugger than usual and couldn't help smiling to himself. Being full. It felt good. Better than good, actually.

He looked up after buttoning his coat and caught her eye. "Ready?"

 

"Yeah, let's go," replied Molly, hoping he hadn't caught her watching. They caught a cab, then were on their way to Baker Street. Molly just felt happy, really happy. It was good to know she could help him feel less lonely. At least for a bit.


	3. Wine and Biscuits

The cab back to Baker Street was quiet, but it was the good kind of companionable silence he had always found with John. Sherlock looked over at Molly, seeing how happy she looked, and couldn't stop his heart from catching in his throat. In the low lights of London, her hair tied in a suitable ponytail to keep it out of her face while she worked, she looked...beautiful.

And Sherlock was starting to feel certain that, yes, this was love. And he might be ready for those three little words after all.

 

The cab pulled to a stop outside of 221 Baker Street. Once the cabbie was paid, they headed up the front steps. Molly stood, bouncing slightly on her heels as Sherlock let them in. It always felt so homey here somehow. With Mrs. Hudson and the decor... maybe it was just Sherlock. Abraisive as he could be, she felt safe around him.

"Er, upstairs then?" she asked shyly.

 

"Well, Mrs. Hudson is asleep, and 221C is riddled with damp..." Sherlock started up the steps. "Yes, upstairs. Come on."

When they were inside, he began tidying a bit absently, just because she was there and not accustomed to his mess. He cleared off the sofa and bid her sit down. "I don't know what you drink," he confessed, "and I don't drink very much, actually. I have an awful tolerance level." He fetched two clean wine glasses and the bottle of wine. "I have red wine. Will that do?"

 

"Mm, yeah that sounds lovely. Is it a Merlot?" Molly asked, looking up as she sat down and shrugged her coat off. She smirked slightly.

"I might be able to drink you under the table in that case."

 

Sherlock snorted. "Most likely. I admire your tolerance, Miss Hooper." He looked at the bottle. "It is, in fact." He poured them each a glass and carried it in, along with a packet of biscuits. He sat on the sofa next to her and stretched out, long legs elegantly crossed, body slouched, reclining back so as to take up room. He popped a biscuit in his mouth and sipped at his wine, one hand flopped over his stomach. "Not exactly cheese and crackers, but it works just as well," he said thoughtfully, winking at Molly.

 

Molly giggled, ducking into her wine glass for a moment, then cautiously leaning back against the sofa. He could feel his arm close behind her. Warm. Male. Sherlock. Yeah, that's nice.

"Oh, biscuits will work just fine," she said, smiling and pulling the packet closer so that he wouldn't have to move to have more. Her eyes trailed to Sherlock's tummy again, still looking round, and so comfortable that she just wanted to cuddle up into it. She took another drink of wine.

"Though if you're going to keep calling me, Miss Hooper, then maybe I should be addressing you as Mr. Holmes." She grinned, and took a biscuit to nibble on.

 

"I'm only teasing, Miss Hooper," Sherlock drawled, taking Molly's hint and reaching for a biscuit, lazily munching on it. "If you wish to do the same, I'd be happy to play along. Although," He glanced at her while he sipped his wine, "I rather like the sound of 'Molly', as it happens."

 

"Hm, me too," murmured Molly, grinning as she took another sip of her wine. It was heavy and thick on her tongue, warming on the way down. There's a heat growing in her belly. Actually she was quite warm all over. She swallowed and sat back, swirling her glass a bit, watching the dark liquid flowing.

"So, that last case then, all solved now?" she asked.

 

Sherlock nodded. The wine was very warming as it hit his stomach. Well, he was full anyway, but it just felt extra nice. And he knew he wasn't done eating yet. Just for now. Come morning, he'd have a huge breakfast and spend the day lounging lazily on the sofa. Maybe he wouldn't have to do it alone. "Yes. Case solved. I'll be taking care of myself a bit more until the next one comes around."

 

"That's good," said Molly, smiling rather easily now that the wine seemed to be settling her. She reached over to pat Sherlock's hand, not taking into account that it was perched on his belly.

"You deserve a rest and some care after all that. Make up for missed meals," she nodded approvingly. She swallowed slightly. There... there had been a bit of a jiggle there, since he was so full. But erm, yeah. More wine.

 

Sherlock lazily wrapped an arm properly around her shoulders and stealthily moved his hand off his belly so Molly could feel. He wasn't sure exactly what was happening or what he was doing...or even if he was being too forward. But it just felt...right. As did what he whispered in her ear, "I can eat so much more than this..."

 

Molly swallowed, first at the arm around her shoulders, then at the soft warm belly underneath her fingers. At the whisper she gave a small shudder that turned into a squeak.

"Oh? Er, still hungry are you?" she asked, eyes flicking up to Sherlock's face. He was very close just now. Molly's lips parted as her breath caught.

"Want another biscuit?" she asked, holding one up so that she had a reason to remover her hand from the man's stomach. She didn't want to, it just seemed... proper.

 

Sherlock sat back a little and took his arm from off her shoulders. Chalking up his weird behavior to too much wine, he took the biscuit from her and ate it. "Not necessarily. I'm done eating for tonight." He yawned politely. "It's quite late, after all." 

 

"Oh, er, yeah. I s'pose it is," said Molly, feeling suddenly crestfallen as Sherlock pulled away again. Somehow she'd messed up. She always managed to mess it up. "Er, want to show me where I'm sleeping then? Or should I just... catch a cab and..."

 

Sherlock shook his head fondly. Here he had thought he'd done something wrong. He gently moved her hand back to his stomach and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry, Molly. I am sorry that I am tired, but we can stay awake a while longer." He glanced at her, somehow unable to say what he wanted just yet.

 

"Oh. Okay," said Molly, blinking down where her hand was resting on the man's belly. God it felt warm Just really comforting. She could blame it on the wine. She quickly drained it and set the glass aside, then tucked her feet up on the sofa and leaned into Sherlock, resting her head at his shoulder, the hand on his belly starting a slow up and down stroking motion. Yeah... that felt... nice.

"Is-Is this okay?"

 

Sherlock yawned again. It was a bit surprising, he had to admit. But a small, cool hand resting on his belly, stroking it ever so gently? It was just...nice. He downed the rest of his wine and set his glass aside, slouching more and pulling her closer. "Mm." He was glad he was too tired to be aroused. That tended to scare shy girls like Molly off.

 

Molly chuckled softly, then hummed in kind, allowing her slow strokes to turn into circular ones that traced the shape of Sherlock's rounded belly. She tipped her head slightly against his arm, able to smell his deodorant or cologne, then a musky male scent underneath.

She swallowed feeling her stomach do a little flip.

Sherlock chuckled. "You okay? We can't really have either of us getting too hot and bothered," he said lightly. "Not tonight, at least. Tomorrow." Of course, he wasn't about to make her stop. He tilted his head back with a sigh. It felt so good...

"What?" said Molly, suddenly feeling very flustered, she looked up at Sherlock, "You... you're tired and probably a lightweight so you're drunk. You don't mean... anything. It's-this is just... nice. Hmm..." Her hand was still rubbing at the detective's full stomach, fingers probing and pressing here and there, trailing over and tugging at buttons.

"Very nice."

 

"No, Molly, I'm not drunk after only a glass of wine." Sherlock chuckled fondly. "I...I feel...quite strongly for you, Molly. It's not something I can put a name to, but there it is." He blushed and lifted his head to look at her. "Do you...feel similarly?"

 

Molly bit her lip, looking up into those sharp blue eyes. She drew in a shuddering breath.

"I thought that was obvious," she said quietly, then looked down, "I-I never really got over you, Sherlock. I still... yeah. I do."

 

"Good," Sherlock said warmly, then yawned again, stretching slightly. "My apologies, but I really haven't slept well these past few days," he said sheepishly. "I must be getting to bed." But he made no movement, to let Molly know that it was okay for her to be here. "I'll let you have the downstairs bedroom, and get you set up with some clothes."

 

"Good?" said Molly and she actually laughed, "Just 'good?'"

She decided to be daring and slipped into Sherlock's lap. Then she leaned tentatively forward, not breathing as if the tiniest shift in the air between them could shatter this moment. She leaned in and kissed him gently. Him. Sherlock Holmes. On the lips. God, had that actually happened? After all this time. She pulled back with a smile.

"That would be lovely, thanks, I'll just... pop to the loo then," She bit her lip, holding back a smile, then slid off his lap and hurried away, her face breaking into a wide beaming smile as she went.

 

Sherlock accepted the kiss, leaning into Molly's gentle persuasion as if they had been doing this for an eternity. They just seemed to fit so well together…

All too soon, she was gone. He sat, stunned, smiling in a big, goofy fashion. Molly Hooper had kissed him. He tamped down on the panic that followed about how to proceed and what it meant, and got up. The sheets were clean, because Sherlock hadn't slept in them since laundry day. He rummaged through his wardrobe until he found suitable clothing for Molly to sleep in. Then, after grabbing his own clothing, he went upstairs.

Tomorrow, he vowed, they would begin their relationship properly.


	4. Breakfast and Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fluffy breakfast between the two new lovers.

Molly awoke the next morning and just took a moment to breathe in against the pillow she was laying on. She wondered now if it was a dream. It seemed likely. She'd had quite a lot of dreams like that. She swallowed. Well, one way to find out.

She slipped out of bed, pulling Sherlock's too large pajama bottoms up and cinching in the waist, then she took one of his dressing gowns and pulled it around her. It was big, and warm. Like he had been. She padded out to the kitchen to see if Sherlock was there.

 

Sherlock had awoken early that morning with two purposes in mind. The first was what he deemed most important, so he nipped out down to a small corner shop to pick up what he needed. He returned and began cooking.

He was just in time. In the middle of breakfast, he heard Molly get up. He'd neglected to change back into his jimjams, but ah well. "Molly. Good morning." He couldn't help the thrill in his chest.

 

"Morning, Sherlock," replied Molly, feeling her heart do a little cartwheel as she saw him. Then her eyes fell on the table.

Sleeping in a decent-sized carrying case, was a tiny black and white kitten.

"Oh my- oh my goodness," she said, covering her mouth, at the sight of the adorable little cat as it tucked a nose under a white paw,"Who's this?"

 

"Well, the idea was for you to name her," Sherlock replied kindly, turning around to look at her as he paused in his breakfast making. "I know it's a bit forward, but…when you mentioned having to give up Toby, I thought you might appreciate something warm and furry, to keep you company when I can't be around." He smiled shyly. "Do you like her?"

 

The little kitten blinked itself awake and let out a little mewl. Molly's heart positively melted. She reached out and carefully plucked the kitten from it's carrier, then held it to her chest, petting it softly.

"She's perfect! Oh my- just thank you so much, Sherlock."

The kitten began purring, tucking her head into Sherlock's dressing gown, it's paws kneading at the material.

"Hm... I think I'll call her Shiloh," she murmured, then stepped over to smile up at Sherlock. "Breakfast smells good."

 

"What a very fitting name," Sherlock replied fondly, watching the kitten knead into his dressing gown. It was adorable to see Molly wearing it. He bent down to brush his lips against her forehead. "And yes, a formidable breakfast. I'm half starved." He smiled. "Mrs. Hudson has offered to watch the kitten. I had a feeling we might get up to…other things…this morning."

 

"Oh-er," said Molly, blushing even as she chewed her lip. "Yeah, I think we might actually. Shall I take her down now? Or? She probably wants something to eat too."

God, how had this suddenly happened. But finally... finally. She was so happy she might actually be delirious.

"I look forward to it. Whatever that might be," she said, smirking a bit and bumping her hip against Sherlock as she went to sit with the kitten while he cooked.

 

"Oh, you don't have to take her down until I'm finished cooking, love," Sherlock said casually. "I prepared the kitten food in Mrs. Hudson's flat this morning. Everything is down there ready for the kitten, including toys and bedding and other things. I…might have gone a bit overboard." He blushed. "Breakfast will be ready soon."

 

Molly giggled, then felt herself flush. Had he really? Yeah, he really had called her that. Molly just smiled and petted her new kitten, scratching her behind the ears and then under her chin until she sounded like a little motorbike.

"Thank you, Sherlock. That's really sweet of you," she said, watching him cook. It was impressive to find out Sherlock could be domestic as well. Sexy even.

 

"You're very welcome," Sherlock replied. "I am so glad you liked her. I couldn't decide what color to get, and there wasn't a lot of variety, but this one seemed so friendly, so…" He shrugged, realizing he was rambling. "And of course I can cook. I've been more or less looking out for myself my whole life."

 

"She's lovely," said Molly, "She'll be a lovely cat to have around." Then she quirked an eyebrow and prodded, "So you know how to cook and look after yourself, but you neglect to do that on cases?"

 

Sherlock realized the error of his ways and balked. "Well…I choose to ignore myself," he insisted. "The Work comes before comfort and rest."

 

"Hm, if you say so," said Molly, pursing her lips a bit dubiously, "It is stuff you need though. But sorry. I shouldn't nag you. You've survived this far after all." She chuckled and settled the kitten in her lap where it curled up contentedly before starting to chew gently on her thumb.

 

Sherlock smiled. "Nagging is all fine. Sometimes, I need to be reminded that I'm not a machine." He chuckled, finishing the breakfast and starting to serve it. "Now, though, I need no encouragement. You might want to bring Shiloh downstairs now. She looks to be about to devour your thumb."

 

"Poor dear... No, love, you can't get milk from my thumb," she chided warmly, "Though I expect she's onto solids now. Still, the impulse lasts." Molly chuckled and picked up the cat again, then looked to Sherlock.

"Hm, 'encouragement' was it? Sounds like fun," she grinned and then hurried downstairs to deliver Shiloh to a cooing Mrs. Hudson.

Then she was quickly upstairs again. She made sure Sherlock wasn't carrying anything hot, then stepped up and pulled him down for a proper good morning kiss.

"Thanks... again."

 

Sherlock started as he was pulled down into the kiss, but easily kissed back, using one arm to pull her close to his side. When they broke for breath, he smiled fondly. "You're welcome. And yes, she's on to solids. I suppose the impulse is, however, lasting. And yes, encouragement." He nuzzled her nose. "Let's eat."

 

Molly smiled and lead the way back to the table, settling herself down behind her breakfast plate. "Wow, you really pulled out all the stops! This looks amazing!"

 

"Thank you." Sherlock straightened with pride as he sat down as well. "I was starving, so I'm afraid I made quite the smorgasbord." He sat down next to Molly. "Well, no use in letting it get cold. Dig in! I've got tea on the way."

 

The pathologist nodded, chuckling a bit, then helped herself to eggs and toast. "So... this encouraging thing," she said finally, looking up at Sherlock as she polished off her toast and scooped up a bit more egg, "What exactly... would that involve?" It was intriguing of course. The thought of Sherlock being full and content warmed her. Maybe it even meant. "Am I to feed you something?" she asked with a smile.

 

"Well, I'm hardly looking for structure," Sherlock said thoughtfully, finishing off the last of his sausage and eggs and heaping seconds onto his plate. "I've had very little experience with relationships, mind. But, if it suits you…" He smiled at her, rising to pour them tea as the kettle whistled. "You can do what you did last night every so often. Now that I have you, I have to take better care of myself, but I am forgetful, particularly when I'm on a case."

 

"I'll remind you then," said Molly, smiling. She couldn't help but stare a bit as he ate. She nodded encouragingly however. She loved seeing a big appetite on a man, especially one so lanky. "did you want some more toast?"

 

"Mm, yes please!" Sherlock replied, piling more onto his plate for thirds. "I think I'll be testing my capacity at this rate!" He chuckled. "I hope you don't think I'm…being piggish, or anything. My appetite isn't always bigger than my stomach's capacity."

 

Molly just smiled. "No, no, you're not. You need it. and it's- er- it's nice to see you enjoying yourself. Don't hold back on my account," she said, then nudged her chair a bit closer. She reached out to give Sherlock's belly a tentative rub.

"You eat as much as you want to," she added warmly.

 

"Oh, I was planning to, don't worry," Sherlock chuckled, resting his hand on top of hers, holding her hand in place on his belly. "It's not much now, but it'll get bigger. Would you like to see that?"

 

Molly swallowed. "Oh, er... whatever you like-I mean. I'm sure you'd look ch- Not that you don't now! God, I'm sorry. I'm terrible," she said, ducking her head. Would she like to see him eat to his heart content? Get that belly soft and round? Then cuddle into it? Okay. Yes.

 

"Shh, Molly!" Sherlock chuckled warmly, pulling Molly close to him. "You're fine! Speak your mind, dear. I love you, okay?" He kissed her cheek. "If I'm honest, I can't wait to have you touch me after I'm content and full. And I know you are looking forward to it." He kissed her again. "Don't worry about it, love. You're fine."

 

"I-I love you too," replied Molly, her tone rather breathless. "Oh, God, I'm not used to hearing that from you!" She giggled, then leaned further into Sherlock. "Hm, well if that's the case, keep on eating then." She smiled and plucked a piece of toast from the plate, then held it out to Sherlock's lips to help him finish his breakfast. She was sure that what came after would be very... very fun.

 

"I had hesitated to say it," Sherlock replied, running a hand through Molly's hair. He opened his mouth to receive the toast.

Several plates later, and Sherlock was groaning. His trousers and shirt were unbuttoned, his stomach rounded out and full. "Oh God," he muffled a burp. "It feels good, but…I haven't eaten this much food in front of anyone…ever!" He laughed, and then hiccuped. "Ooohhh man… Well, we shall have to change that," Sherlock said lovingly, kissing Molly's forehead.

 

Molly giggled in kind, her hand rubbing at Sherlock's tight full tummy. It felt unbelievably sexy. She moved in to kiss the man's lips. "Mm, I'm honored then," she said, smiling and patting his belly. "I'm glad. You look nice and taken care of now."

 

"Thanks to you," Sherlock replied, belching again. "Oof, I need to try to move…get to bed…stretch out." He grunted and moved to get up slowly. "That'll be better for both of us. Ooof."

 

"Okay, here, let me," said Molly, standing as well and helping the bloated detective to his feet. "My room?" she teased, giving him a grin and his side a squeeze.

 

"Well…our room?" Sherlock asked tentatively as he used Molly's support to walk to the bedroom she'd slept in last night. "It seems presumptuous to ask…we've been together for less than a day after all. But 221B is your home now, so you may feel free to come over when you wish. I'll get a key made." He sat carefully down on the bed and lay back. "Hmmm…that's better."

 

"Of course, I was only teasing, but-" her eyes widened as she appreciated Sherlock's words. "Oh, thank you. That's... that's very kind. I-I'll definitely be coming over. Need to make sure you're fed up, don't I?" She grinned and slipped onto the bed beside the detective, running her hands over his bulging belly again.

 

"Mmm…yes, you do. And then there needs to be a lot of you rubbing my belly." Sherlock groaned, arching his back.

 

"I'm sure there will be," agreed Molly, setting straight to work.

A month or so later, Molly did in fact move in and brought Shiloh along as well. It was... easy. Very easy to settle in at 221 B. She cooked, or sometimes Sherlock did, then they'd eat. No matter how large Sherlock's meal, Molly was always happy to rub the man's stomach afterwards, delighting in how the flesh felt as it softened and molded under her fingers. Yeah, he was looking much better now. Stronger, brighter. John seemed to think the same when he came to visit one day. Molly had been nervous in a way she couldn't quite articulate, but he just smiled and hugged them both, then chatted over tea about the usual cases and then the less usual baby news. Sherlock and John each teased one another about the extra pounds round the other's middle and Molly smiled proudly. John took her aside for a moment while Sherlock had dashed off to find some odd bit from an experiment or a case.

"Thanks," he'd said, "For looking after Sherlock. He-I was worried about him. Mary and I have been so busy with everything. I know he doesn't take to everyone. So I'm just really glad he has you. You look happy."

"We are," Molly had smiled in return. Then Sherlock had called them in to see whatever it was he had been trying to find. Then after John had left, Molly had slid her hand into Sherlock's. She hoped it felt as right to him as it did to her. It seemed to. 

 

Sherlock smiled when he felt Molly's hand slide into his. It was good to know she felt so strongly about him. He picked his head up and smiled at her, saying "My Molly," before bending down to kiss her He bent down to kiss her shortly after.


End file.
